


Heat-Seeking

by deathishauntedbyhumans



Category: Neverwhere - Neil Gaiman
Genre: Character Study, F/M, First Meetings, Flirting, Gen, POV Third Person, Pre-Canon, Succubi & Incubi, Velvets, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000, but it’s ship if you squint, i didn’t write it with the intention of marquis/lamia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 13:33:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16661939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathishauntedbyhumans/pseuds/deathishauntedbyhumans
Summary: Lamia and de Carabas meet for the first time.





	Heat-Seeking

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve never read the full novel and have only read/performed in the stage version, so any characterisation anomalies stem from that.

The warmth drew her like a moth to a flame. She _had_ to follow it, _had_ to sieze upon it like it was the only thing that mattered.

It _was_ the only thing that mattered.

Lamia scoured the market from her position against a tree, peering curiously through the crowd. Her sisters had taught her well; the warmth was always there, always just under the skin of the mortals that walked this plane. It only took a keen eye to find it.

A pair of women walked past, both eyeing her curiously, and she smiled and winked flirtatiously, waving at them with a tiny waggle of her fingers. They continued on without stopping, giggling and blushing and gushing about her in hushed whispers that Lamia couldn’t help but overhear. That was the problem with those who didn’t walk alone: they always had somewhere else to be.

Pushing off from the tree, Lamia sidestepped a large gaggle of boisterous mortals passing by and slipped easily into the crowd. She was so _cold._ The warmth of the bodies surrounding her did nothing but aggravate her condition, forcing her to crave the warmth even further.

And then, she saw him.

A man, dark-skinned and beautiful in a supernatural sort of way, walked alone across the park, aimlessly glancing at the hawkers he passed and occasionally brushing his fingers over the pockets of his coat.

 _He_ would be perfect.

“Hello there,” Lamia purred as she sidled up to him, watching with no small amount of amusement as he glanced up at her. Admittedly, she had expected more of a reaction from him at her sudden appearance beside him, but some men were unflappable, right up until the end. They weren’t the fun ones, but warmth was warmth, and Lamia would take what she could get.

“Can I help you?” the man asked, sounding bored. His gaze, sharp and unyielding, took her in slowly. She adjusted her stance subtly, letting her hips shift fluidly and her chest flaunt underneath her patterned corset.

“I was just admiring your coat,” she said with a smile. Flattery was always the best way to get what one wanted, after all. “It’s very beautiful.”

Pride, followed by a strange flash of recognition, filled the man’s features, until a small, pleased smile took over entirely. The man relaxed, his posture loosening, and Lamia’s grin grew.

“Why, thank you. You’re very kind,” he said, and Lamia preened. “Do you have a name, good lady?”

“Lamia,” she replied, holding out a hand. He took it, leaning down and pressing a kiss to her knuckle. She stared longingly, desperately, _hungrily_ at him while he wasn’t looking at her; the touch made her _want,_  made her _need_ the warmth flowing through him. “What a gentleman you are! What do you call yourself, hm?”

“I am called the marqis de Carabas,” the man stated, straightening up once more. “Would you like to walk with me a ways? I have an engagement in a while, but I would love to hear more about you.”

Lamia could have kissed him right then and there. She _wanted_ to, too, but… the work of her and her sisters was better performed in the dark, without the eyes of an audience to see what was being done.

“I would be honoured to join you,” she said instead, coyly, batting her eyelashes at the marquis. He offered her an arm and she accepted, wending her hands around. The warmth of his skin seeped through the sleeve of his coat, and Lamia _ached._

They walked for some time through the market, with Lamia gently pressing the marquis for details about his life and the marquis answering in various degrees of detail. He was vague on many counts, but Lamia found no concern for it; he was a mysterious man, and mysterious men often held themselves above the rest of the mortals they lived with for their own selfish reasons.

“I believe that you are the most intelligent man I’ve ever met,” Lamia murmured to him, voice soft. They’d reached the edge of the park, just before the lush grass would give way to London Above’s twisting society of sidewalks and roads and cars. The bustle of the market was an afterthought, now, and _here_ was where Lamia could finally seek the warmth she so desired. She nestled closer to the marquis, tucking herself against his chest, and he smirked down at her, one strong arm wrapping around her lithe body as he hummed his agreement.

“You don’t truly believe that, though,” he said matter-o-factly, and Lamia batted her eyelashes up at him, shaking her head innocently.

“Of course I do.”

The marquis reached down, towards his pocket, and passed it, removing a knife from his belt —previously hidden beneath his coat— in one sudden movement. Before Lamia could even hope to react, the knife was against her throat, and she gasped, the cold metal freezing against her already-chilled skin. “No, you don’t.” He paused, clearly waiting for her to respond, and when she didn’t, he huffed a breath of laughter. “You didn’t expect me to know what you were? You chose the wrong man tonight, Velvet Child.”

The arm around her loosened and then dropped, and Lamia shrunk back immediately, glaring openly at the marquis. The marquis merely shrugged, twirling his knife casually between his fingers.

“Get out of here, Lamia,” he said. “The market is nearly finished for the night. Go back to your cave and sleep.” When she didn’t move, he held the knife again, baring it towards her. “You aren’t taking another’s warmth tonight. Leave the market,” he commanded, and Lamia shrunk away again, hissing angrily.

 _Foiled_. By this _mortal._ It was too much to bear. And he’d been so _warm._

“Foolish,” she hissed at him. “You are a fool, de Carabas. You should have let me _feed_.”

“Yes, yes. You’re very scary,” the marquis said condescendingly. “Now. Go on. Shoo.”

With a final hiss, Lamia finally turned, slinking away from the marquis and into the street behind the market. She could feel his eyes on her back as she retreated, and even as she found her way back to her home and greeted her sisters, she was vowing _revenge_ against the fool de Carabas for ever daring to cross her path.

**Author's Note:**

> The market is being held at Hyde Park in Central London. 
> 
> This fic was inspired by the fact that Carabas and Lamia never interact (at least, they don’t in the play) before the chasm scene, in which Carabas calls Lamia out by name. 
> 
> As always, kudos/comments are love!
> 
> Come scream at me on tumblr @deathishauntedbyhumans.


End file.
